Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy #1) - Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,124

seen the inside of the Mountain in a decade, I’ve no idea what could have changed. And I understand very little about how the thing really works.”

Gregor turned to Berenice. “There’s nothing in Tribuno’s notes about this? Nothing about how he designed the Mountain?”

She shook her head.

“What is in Tribuno Candiano’s notes?” said Giovanni. “I’d be curious to see the writings of our most acclaimed genius and madman.”

“Well,” said Berenice reluctantly, “there’s all these wax rubbings of what looks like human sacrifices—a body on an altar, and a dagger above—but as for Tribuno’s notes…” She cleared her throat, and read aloud: “I again return to the nature of this ritual. The hierophant Seleikos refers to a ‘collection of energies’ or a ‘focusing of minds’ and ‘thoughts all captured.’ The great Pharnakes refers to a ‘transaction’ or ‘deliverance’ or ‘transference’ of sorts that must take place at ‘the world’s newest hour.’ At other times he says it must be at ‘the darkest hour’ or ‘the forgotten minute.’ Does he mean midnight? The winter solstice? Something else?”

Giovanni stared at her blankly. “What the hell is that?”

“Tribuno’s efforts to determine the source of the hierophants’ nature,” said Orso. “In other words, a hell of a bigger problem than what we’re trying to solve here.”

“It’s not as useful as I hoped,” said Berenice. “He just goes on and on about this transaction—the ‘filling of the pitchers’—though it’s pretty clear Tribuno himself doesn’t understand what he’s talking about.”

“But obviously it was of great value to Tomas Ziani,” said Gregor.

“Or he just thought it was of value,” said Orso, “and he’s wasting blood and treasure on nonsense.”

At that comment, Gregor froze. “Ahh,” he said softly.

“Ahh what?” said Sancia.

Gregor stared into the middle distance. “Blood,” he said quietly. A look of horrible revelation entered his face. “Tell me, Orso. Does…does Estelle Ziani ever see her father?”

“Estelle? Why?” asked Orso suspiciously.

“He’s ill, isn’t he?” He looked at Orso and narrowed his eyes. “Surely she oversees his medical attention—yes, Orso?”

Orso was very still. “Uh. Well…”

“The Mountain checks the blood of a person to make sure they’re the right person,” Gregor said. “You’d have to find a way to log your own blood with the Mountain in order to let you in.” He stepped closer to Orso. “But…what if you had access to the blood of a resident? Like Estelle Ziani—or, better yet, her father? The man who made the Mountain itself? That’s what you aim to do—isn’t it, Orso? To use Tribuno Candiano’s blood as a pass key for Sancia?”

Orso glared at him. “Well. Aren’t you a clever bastard, Captain.”

“Wait,” said Sancia. “You’re going to steal Tribuno Candiano’s blood? Really?”

Everyone stared at Orso. Finally he sighed. “I never said steal,” he said huffily. “It would be voluntarily donated. I thought I’d just…you know, ask Estelle for it.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Claudia.

“What?” he said. “It’s an opportunity we can’t pass up! With his blood, the damned thing should open for her like a schoolgirl’s legs! The Mountain’s a kingdom, riddled with scrived guards, and no guard can turn away their king!”

“And, what, I cover myself with his blood?” asked Sancia. She pulled a face. “That’s not exactly stealthy.”

“I’m sure we can make some kind of container for it!” he said, exasperated.

“Assuming Estelle even consents,” said Berenice, “surely the Candianos have rewritten all the permissions so Tribuno no longer has access, yes?”

“That would suggest there’s someone on the Candiano campo who’s a better scriver than Tribuno,” said Orso. “Which is unlikely. If I’d scrived my own massive house, I’d have put in all kinds of permissions and goodies just for me.”

“And Ziani certainly isn’t a scriver,” said Gio. “But all this assumes our boy here can actually get the man’s blood.”

“You really think that Estelle would do that for you, Orso?” asked Sancia.

“She might if I tell her you saw her husband kissing hips with some girl in a rundown foundry,” said Orso. “Or maybe I don’t even need to say that. Everyone knows Ziani is a privileged shit, and from the sound of it, he practically keeps her shackled up in the Mountain. I suspect she wouldn’t turn down a way to stick a knife in Ziani’s ribs.”

“True,” said Berenice. “Maybe it’s not as heavy an ask as we’re all assuming. In a way, you’d be offering her freedom. And people risk many things for that.”

Then a curious thing happened: a deeply guilty look crossed Gregor’s face, and he turned to Sancia and opened his mouth as